


midnight quiet

by zehecatl



Category: LEGO Monkie Kid
Genre: Fluff, Gen, post s2 special, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zehecatl/pseuds/zehecatl
Summary: MK wakes up in the middle of the night, and finds Wukong at the end of his bed.
Relationships: Qi Xiaotian | MK & Sūn Wùkōng | Monkey King
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	midnight quiet

**Author's Note:**

> nothing really happens, but i wanted to write this moment anyway, and it's just shy of my requirement for AO3 posting, so. might as well
> 
> technically there's spoilers for the s2 special, but nothing concrete is mentioned, so if you haven't seen it, it's probably fine?

MK’s not even sure what wakes him.

The flat is dark, cozy. Even as he finds himself awake, blinking sleepily up at the ceiling, there’s no sense of unease in the air. No rising of the hairs at the back of his neck, no warning bells going off.

He hums sluggishly, raises a hand to rub at his face; he can hear the city outside his window, beating away like a heart, and the sound is comforting, familiar. It makes sleep tug at him, makes him want to curl up and close his eyes once more, but there’s _something_ -

There’s a shape at the end of his bed.

“... Monkey King?”

Light flashes in through the window; catches the shape there, and outlines him in stark, sharp lines, and MK finds himself hesitating, voice dying in his throat. 

Monkey King- _Wukong_ , a part of him corrects, because there’s nothing sensational here, there’s no loud, confident Monkey King here, right now- sits tense, body wire-sharp, and his expression is hard to parse, all closed off and _harsh_ , and MK’s never managed to snuck up on his master, not even once, but right now, it feels like he _could_.

He swallows. Sits up, blanket pooling in his lap, and keeps his voice _soft_.

“Wukong?”

Just barely, MK can see the way Wukong startles. A slight, tiny shiver of movement, the start of a jump, but then he catches himself, and turns his head.

“MK,” Wukong says, and his voice is quieter than MK’s ever heard him, low in a way that makes him uneasy. 

His smile is as bright and easy as ever, and that’s _worse_.

“Is something wrong?”

Wukong’s eyes slip away. Focuses on some far-off point, and MK curls his hands into his blanket, feels tension inch up his spine. His stomach rolls. Curdles like milk.

“Nah, kid. Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?”

MK tugs at his blanket. Fiddles with it, hands restless, and he looks away too, squinting into the dark. There’s nothing there. Just the grey shapes of his counter, and the empty bowls abandoned there. 

He wonders if that’s what Wukong’s seeing too, or if there’s something else, lurking in the dark.

Silence spreads between them. MK fidgets, tries to find patience and grace, but it’s hard- concern sits in his gut like a stone, and every time he sneaks a glance at his master, it sinks further and further down, gets heavier and _heavier_.

Something is wrong. 

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Tries to find something to say, _anything_ , but it’s late and he’s tired and even then, despite that, he’s- they’re not close.

Not really.

They’re closer than they were, especially after- after _Macaque_ , and then the Spider Queen, but there’s still this _gap_ , this distance so vast and terrifying, and MK _wants_ to cross it, wants to reach Wukong on the other side, but he doesn’t know _how_.

He sighs.

“I’m guessing you aren’t leaving,” he says, and Wukong does that little thing again, that little almost-startle. Like he had forgotten he was even there. 

When their eyes meet, he looks almost guilty.

“It’s fine,” he says, before Wukong can say anything, because he has this feeling that Wukong _would_ leave, but only to sit himself outside his window, a shadow in the cold, and MK would really rather keep him here, in the warmth.

MK gets up. Ignores the way Wukong watches his every step, and pads his way over to one of his cupboards, fishes around till he finds another blanket. 

It’s heavy in his hands, and it feels purposeful between his fingers.

“It’s okay,” he says, staring down at the fabric. “If you don’t wanna talk about it. But I’m here, you know? If you ever change your mind.”

For a beat, a second too long, the silence lingers between them. MK’s not sure what he’s waiting for, but then, quietly, Wukong laughs.

It’s not a humorous thing, not anything sad either. It’s just a soft noise, this exhale of tension and worry and something _dark_ , and MK ducks his head, smiles, relief like stars behind his teeth.

“You’re a good kid,” Wukong says, and MK squawks when there’s a hand in his hair, flails.

Wukong laughs, and this time it’s a bright sound, _genuine_ , and MK falls still, feels Wukong tousle his hair as his heart sits in his chest, _warm_.

“C’mon,” Wukong says, takes the blanket from his hands. His tail curls around his wait, tugs him back to the bed. “Let's get you back to sleep.”

MK goes without complaint. Flops back down as easy as anything, tugs his blanket back over himself. He yawns, rubs his cheek against his pillow, and his bed is still warm, still cozy and sleep-inducing. 

His bed dips. MK doesn’t have to look to know it’s Wukong, settling at his feet, and maybe he hasn’t fixed much of anything, hasn’t soothed whatever it is that’s making Wukong act like this, but-

Wukong flops down onto his feet, all elbows and sharp points, and MK yelps, flails upright, and Wukong laughs, the same bright, _genuine_ , sound, and MK huffs, mock-offended, and-

It’s something, isn’t it?

Wukong is getting cozy, settling himself in, half-curled and wrapped in the blanket, and MK flops back down, smiles up at the ceiling.

Outside, the city beats on. Loud and alive, as comforting as always, and at his feet, Wukong is a heavy, steadying weight, and when MK closes his eyes, he falls asleep almost instantly.

(in the morning, the blanket is carefully, precisely, folded, and Wukong is gone, and that’s okay. no matter how long it takes, he’ll be here.)

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't mean to fall completely and utterly in love with this show, but i sure _did_ , so now every waking thought i have is just. Monke  
> so like, feel free to come yell at me about Sun Wukong and MK and everyone at my [tumblr](https://zehecatl.tumblr.com/)


End file.
